


Misha Collins One-shot

by normski_reedenstein



Category: American Actor RPF
Genre: Accents, Bondage, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Freeform, Hair-pulling, Rough Sex, Russian Castiel, Sexual Roleplay, Way to ruin the moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:15:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2708666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/normski_reedenstein/pseuds/normski_reedenstein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The sweetest torture isn't sinking into your flesh but breaking you down from the inside out."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misha Collins One-shot

**Author's Note:**

> From my Wattpad.

•                                               •                                                      •       The room was completely black, the only light coming from the brightly lit screen of the giant tablet laying at your feet. You were spending your whole day alone in your hotel room with nothing but  a newly bought tub of Oreo ice cream and reruns of Supernatural on Netflix to keep you company. This was your weekend to unwind while Misha was off doing a small meet and greet about a half hour away. He had insisted on you coming along but you felt it was better to let him have his fun with his co-stars. You two would have a whole week to yourselves. Plus, with Supernatural playing, it was almost like he was there with you. 

Sleep was finally starting to catch up with you, your heavy lids beginning to fall down on their own accord. The giant hotel bed comforter was doing you in. Just as your eyes finally settled, the lock on the hotel door unlatched, startling you awake. You could only see his silhouette at first; his heavy leather jacket sitting on his broad shoulders.  
"Hey you" you greeted him happily, a bit of grogginess evident in your voice.  
"You're not reading about Dean and I again, are you?"  
Misha liked to go into random impersonations of his character Castiel knowing it got you excited. The grave gruffness of his voice tickled you down your spine and made steel butterfly's jump around in your stomach. An episode was now ending on the tablet, the rock theme you were so familiar with playing out.  
"Actually, I spent the better half of my day doing just that. I find your..."profound bond" very..." you trailed off. Even in the dark room, you could see his teeth through the beaming smile on his face. Clearing your throat, you changed the subject. "So, how was it?"  
"Entertaining as always -- hugs here, squeals there."  
"I wasn't talking about Jensen and Jared " you said jokingly.   
"Wow, you're hilarious " Misha said with a dry laugh.  
He began shrugging off his jacket and kicking off his shoes and socks. Your stomach took a sudden nose dive to the floor as you watched him. The need to touch him, kiss him, have him bury himself inside you was building to dangerous heights. Naturally, you blamed the show even though it was just him -- his presence, his charm, everything -- that made you feel the way you did.  
"Hey. Get over here" you said, pushing the comforter off of you and moving the tablet to a bedside nightstand. You perched up on your knees at the foot of the bed. Misha gave you a look of mock curiosity as he drew near the bed and stopped inches from you, his breath cool on your face.  
"What?" he said with a small laugh. Bringing your arms up to rest on his shoulders, you pulled his face close to yours and lightly brushed your lips over his. His breath caught in a strangled sigh. "You know, as much as I love going to these events, nothing beats coming back to you at the end of the day."  
Your body flushed with heat. He had a special talent for knowing what to say and when. And you were sure he knew the effect his words had on you. To stop yourself from falling against him like a love stricken teen, you touched your lips to his ear and whispered "Bring my sweet Dimka out to play."  
Immediately, you felt his length stand at attention against your torso. The switch was flipped; he was another person now, a man you loved and partially feared.  
"Vy ponyatiya ne imeyete, chto ya sobirayus' sdelat's toboy... " Misha growled. "Dimka has something very special in mind for American girl." The Russian accent he had put on made you smile and goosebumps rose over your flesh. All the available oxygen you could have taken in seemed to vacate the air then.  
"First off..." he began and walked away, leaving your thin arms to drop to your sides. A tiny light doubling as an air freshner came to life as Misha neared. Both of your bags were placed in front of a closet door side by side. Misha bent down and unzipped a small pocket on one of them and reached in. Before you could see what exactly he was digging out, he angled his body over the bag. Your heart began racing in anticipation, your legs slightly trembling as you awaited what the rest of this night would entail.  
"Strip " he commanded. His Russian accent was heavy and every bit as arousing as his Castiel voice. He stood up and placed both of his hands behind his back, his blue eyes blown to hell and wide with want.  
You stood and started shedding your clothes -- an old over sized flannel shirt with a pair of shorts hidden underneath. Fingers fumbling over buttons and your self control littering down to zero, you fought to keep eye contact with him. His stare was intense as he watched you, almost like a lion leering over his prey poised to devour at any given second. 

With your clothes completely forgotten as they lay in a pile at your feet, you waited for Misha to join you. He gave a wicked grin and stepped closer to you.  
"Would the American girl like to play?" he asked, his accent not fading for a minute.  
You took a shaky breath and responded with a broken "yes ."  
Misha's grin broadened and he brought his arms up to reveal a light brown belt wrapped around his knuckles. An audible gasp left your mouth as you zeroed in on the familiar piece of cloth. It was crinkled and worn from one too many uses. Your wrists practically throbbed at the sight.  
"What do you plan on doing with me?" you asked him, each word coming out in breathless pants.  
Misha grabbed the hem of his shirt and threw it off before undoing the fly of his jeans. He unraveled the belt and put it around the back of your neck, pulling you close. His lips were on yours in an instant, his tongue invading your mouth like it was his own. You fell against him, already giving in to whatever he would say or do to you from that point on.  
"Hands behind your back, rebenok " he ordered against your lips. You complied without hesitation, swinging your hands behind you. Misha gave you a quick kiss before spinning you around and wrapping the belt tightly around your petite wrists. His long, nimble fingers worked efficiently at tying the long fabric in a knot. "Perfect " he purred.  
You were suddenly taken by surprise when one of Misha's rough hands greeted your ass with a curt smack. An unintended yelp flew from your mouth and, before you could respond, you were being shoved onto the foot of the bed. The rough, thin rug on the floor burned your knees as you landed. A flood was building at your apex and it only grew once you heard the zipper of his jeans slide down and the material crinkle as they fell to the floor. You didn't dare turn around to look up at this man though the urge to do so was driving you mad.  
Misha nudged a foot between your legs, spreading them out enough to fit between. He fell to his knees behind you and ran his hands down your back, his fingers splayed out over your sides and digging in vigorously. Your spine tingled and trembled at his grasp. Misha gathered your hair off of your neck and planted small kisses on your hair line. Ripples of heat radiated throughout your body from the spots where his lips had been.  
"Dimka " you said in a sensual moan, leaning back into Misha's touch. He sighed heavily at the sound of his nickname, knowing that everything you wanted and felt, had been said with one word. His tongue traced lazy circles on your smooth skin, his lush lips pursing together. Your fingers were slowly going numb from the belt squeezing your wrists.  
Suddenly, your body was being pushed over the bed at an angle. Misha muttered something you believed to be a swear in Russian and you felt his swollen head ease between your legs, teasing your center. A whimper bubbled off your lips, muffled by the comforter against pressing into your mouth.  
"Arch your back" he ordered hoarsely. You did as you were told, bending to that intoxicating Russian accent.  
There was a moment --only a couple seconds -- where Misha was so still, your already pounding heart now hammering erratically against your chest as you waited for his sweet intrusion. His voice was so unnaturally low it made your blood broil.  
"The sweetest torture isn't sinking into your flesh, but breaking you down from the inside out."  
With a grunt, he burried himself in your soaked entrance, emitting a scream from your lips. Pleasure seared your veins like a white hot branding iron with each thrust Misha made. His long, thick length hit all the right spots. You were building up to an all too familiar but strange feeling; the edge of an abyss, a cliff that led to an ocean of bliss.  
Misha gripped your waist so tight you could feel bruises forming. Your knees were stinging from rubbing against the awful carpeting and that seemed to fuel the ecstasy pumping inside of you.  
" Trudneye! " you cried out in your own broken Russian accent. Misha gave a wicked laugh before thrusting deeper. He fisted a hand into your hair and yanked, using it as his leverage.  
Your belly tightened in that special way alerting you that you were close to the point of no return, your moans growing to frantic heights.  More than anything in that moment, your body was begging for the release. It was like giving into a drug, an undeniable drug that made you feel light and invincible. And it was all because of him...  
Misha called your name out into the dark room. It all unraveled then. Your apex constricted around him and a massive orgasm ripped through you, shattering every nerve ending like glass. Blinding white light flashed across your vision. It was all feeling, craving and need in one helpless moment.

You were still coming down, reviling in the euphoric aftermath of what had taken place. Both breathing heavily, you sank onto the floor. The moment was near serene, nice. Until Misha was himself again.  
"Hey babe, what's my Twitter password?"  
•                                                  •                                                          •


End file.
